


Mirror, Mirror

by orphan_account



Category: DCU Animated, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, M/M, Plotty, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment he stepped into Central City, Wally knew something was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the end of the second season of Justice League, so everyone (in the Original Seven) knows each others identities. There may be references to past episodes, so beware of potential unmarked spoilers.

Wally wasn’t a terribly knowledgeable guy. He left the tough research and science and analysis to men like J’onn or Bruce. But what he lacked in brains, he more than made up for with keen instincts. So, the moment he stepped into Central City, Wally knew something was wrong.

He checked his surroundings, but everything looked fine. It was a bright, clear Wednesday in a nice, midwestern city. The sidewalks were crowded with businesspeople headed home from work and the streets were jammed with the usual traffic. It was a perfect image of an average day.

“Maybe,” Wally wondered aloud, “I just imagined it.”

But he didn’t quite believe that. Determined to figure out what was putting him off, Wally set off on a quick check on the city. He wove around cars, peeking into alleys and picking up litter along the way.

“Hi, Martha! How’s your cat doing?” he called to an old lady he recognized. He’d rescued her pet from a tree the other day.  
Instead of waving back, Martha threw Wally such a dirty look that he almost tripped and fell.

“Huh, someone’s having a bad day,” he muttered to himself, taking care to give the woman wide berth.  
  
The odd experience did nothing to quell his conviction that something was wrong. But, as far as he could tell, nothing sinister was up. Wally kept running. On a whim, he decided to veer towards Central City Park. He knew some of the kids that always wanted a push on the swings there, and their cheerful faces could do him some good. He zipped to the park, scrambled through the tanbark, and screeched to a halt at the swing set.  
  
“Hey guys, who’s up for some high-speed swingin’?” he called, grinning at the children already playing there.  
Wally expected the kids to start clamoring around him, all wanting the chance to play with the Flash. To his surprise, not a single one of them moved. A few had looks of worry on their faces. Wally walked up to one of them, a child he’d pulled out from a burning building a few months back.  
  
“Heya, Tommy,” he said, crouching down next to him. “What’s gotten into all of you? You haven’t forgotten me, have you? I wasn’t up in that darn Watchtower for that long.”  
  
The kid took a step back, blue eyes wide and bottom lip quivering.  
  
“Tommy!” A lean woman cried as she rushed over. “Tommy, are you all right? Stay away from that man!”  
  
She picked up the little boy and glared at Wally. Her face mirrored her son’s, both alight with fear. The woman backed away from Wally without turning around, as if she didn’t her back to him.  
  
“You have a lot of nerve showing up here,” she hissed, trembling. “You’re a monster. If you don’t leave, I’m calling the authorities.”  
  
Wally couldn’t move. He stood stock still as the woman threw him another furious look, collected the rest of the children near by, and hurried away. A feeling of unease bubbled up inside of him. Had something happened in Central City while he was away? Something that he hadn’t heard about? It was unlikely, but that was the only possible explanation. Why else would someone here give him a look on par with the one he reserved for the evilest criminals, the worst of the worst? He had to get to the bottom of this mess.  
  
Wally considered what the woman had said. The authorities! The police in Central City had always been on good terms with the Flash. Wally was sure Stan, up at the station, could clear this up. Unwilling to spend any more time in the deserted park, Wally took off without a second thought.

“Stanley, buddy, something’s going on here and I really don’t like it.” Wally swept through the police station and up to the sheriff’s desk.

Stan, the sheriff, stiffened in surprise. He jumped to his feet, chair tumbling down behind him. He didn’t reply to Wally as he grabbed the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt and said, “Officers, the Flash is in headquarters. This is a Code Red. This is not a drill.”  
  
“I – what? No, Stan, what’re you –” Wally started forward, but froze when Stan pulled a gun from his holster.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re doing here,” Stan began.  
  
“Sheriff, what are you doing? Put the gun down,” Wally ordered. He glanced around. Other officers had congregated around the sheriff’s desk, guns trained on Wally.  
  
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Flash. And if you make any sudden movements, we will shoot to kill,” Stan said.  
  
Wally bit his lip. The guns weren’t any real threat to him – he could be out the door before the cop with an itchy trigger finger twitched a muscle – but this was all wrong. There wasn’t a police officer in Central City who’d try to hurt the Flash. That wasn’t how things worked. He was their hero. Wally tried to swallow, but his mouth was completely dry.  
  
“I’d ask you to put down your weapons, but you’re the weapon,” Stan continued. “So I’m giving you ‘til the count of three to get the hell out of my station and out of my city. After that, my boys have orders to open fire.”

  
“Stan, whatever you think I’ve done, you’ve got it all wrong,” Wally said pleadingly. “Just have everyone put their weapons away and let’s talk about this.” He assumed the most un-threatening position he could think of, raising his hands in surrender and shuffling his feet.  
  
“One.”

Wally turned to some of the other officers he recognized. These were people he sped by on their ways to work. He brought them coffee on late nights and he’d handed over countless criminals to them. And now there were about to shoot him. “Guys,” Wally said, “you’re not thinking straight. I’m a superhero. I help this city. Put down the guns.”  
  
“Two.”  
  
“Please, explain to me what’s going on,” Wally implored. “I don’t understand.”  
  
No one said anything. No one moved.  
  
“Three!”  
  
A bead of sweat slipped down his spine. Out of the corner of his eye, Wally saw someone’s finger begin to curl around the trigger. Before they could fire, Wally bolted.  
  
He sprinted harder than he had in years, desperate to get out of whatever bizarre city he’d stepped into. The familiar streets and cruel, unfamiliar people blurred to a multi-colored mess as he sped away.  
  
Wally ran for what felt like hours before his foot snagged a root in some middle-of-nowhere apple orchard. He crashed face-forward to the ground and slid several feet before coming to a stop. Chest heaving from the shock, Wally lay there, not trying to clear the dirt and grime that lodged itself under his cowl during his fall. He barely felt the burn in his lungs and the stinging cuts on chin and knees. He raised one trembling hand and frantically pressed the communicator.  
  
“One to the Watchtower,” he managed to gasp out. “Help.”  
  
He cast his thoughts back to Central City’s intimidating behavior. Someone in the League had to know what was going on. But, as he was teleported into space, Wally realized that he had no guarantee he wouldn’t get a similar reception upon his arrival at the Watchtower.  
  
He scrambled to cancel the transmission and keep himself from being delivered into the hands of a group of super-powered, deadly individuals. But it was a little too late. As the safety of the apple orchard disappeared, Wally had only one thought. If the League wanted him dead, being the fastest man alive certainly wasn’t going to stop them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally gets help from an unlikely ally. Unfortunately, his new partner is hiding some dark secrets.

Wally hit the floor of the arrival bay in the Watchtower with a loud bang. For a second, he wanted to curl up on the metal and not move. But then someone grabbed his shoulder, jerking him upwards. The thought of the Justice League ganging up to attack him flashed through his mind.

"Wait – no, don't hurt me, I'm a friend!" Wally yelled, trying to squirm away.

Instead, a second hand grabbed his left arm, holding him still. "Flash, no one is attacking you."

The harsh, gravelly voice gave Wally pause. He stopped writhing and looked up. "Bats, that's the best news I've heard all day," he breathed, letting out a sigh of relief.

Wally got to his feet shakily, his mind still on Central City. He waited for Bruce to start berating him for causing so much trouble, but the lecture didn't happen. Bruce was too busy checking for injuries. Wally winced as he saw Bruce's gaze linger on the tears in his red suit, the rips stark against his pale skin.

"I'm not that badly injured. I just fell," Wally explained.

"And that's why you called for help?"

"Er – no. It's…something's wrong in Central City. I was –"

"Not here." Bruce glanced around. "If it's something serious, I don't want panic among the newer League members. And it's best to keep gossip to a minimum. My office, now."

Wally nodded and followed Bruce's billowing cape out of the room.

\-----

At some point during his story, Wally had taken off his cowl. Oddly, he felt more at ease with out it, right now. The Flash was the one who almost got shot. Wally West was just your average police scientist. Wally West was the safe one.

"The police force of Central City is generally on good terms with you?" Bruce asked.

Wally ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time. "Generally? Try all the time! Those guys love me."

"Obviously not," Bruce countered.

Wally frowned, trying not to feel hurt. He didn't need any more reminders that his favorite city in the whole world now thought he was a monster. But then again, Bruce probably hadn't said it to be cruel. It was all very typical of the Big Bat: all cold calculation, no time to worry about hurting someone's feelings. Wally huffed.

"Well, do you know what's wrong? What's happened to them?" he asked.

Bruce leaned back in his seat, frowning at the question. He ran his thumb along the edge of his cowl, as if he were tempted to take it off. But no, that would never happen. It wouldn't suit the Bat-persona, would it? Wally found himself briefly distracted by the idea of the mask coming off. It was a rare that Bruce surrendered his identity like that, even to those who already knew it.

"I have a few guesses, but it's impossible to be sure with this little information," Bruce said suddenly, interrupting Wally's thoughts.

The speedster flushed, realizing just what he'd been fantasizing about. Wally stole a quick glance at Bruce, wondering if he could tell. But no, mind reading wasn't one entry on Batman's extensive list of abilities. Wally wondered if it was strange to be relieved.

"I'll need to go to Central City," Bruce continued, getting up. "You'll need to come along, so I can get the appropriate observations."

"What? No, no, no, I am not going back there," Wally spluttered. "I can't."

"It's the only way I can get important information. If I can't understand exactly how civilians are reacting to you, I can't understand why they're reacting negatively at all," Bruce said.

"Bats, I can't," Wally protested. The thought of facing the angry faces and harsh words of the people he'd considered friends made him tremble. Wally was no child, but the whole ordeal had unnerved him.

"If you want to fix this, you'll do it," Bruce said.

The subtle, almost unnoticeable concern that had colored his voice before was gone. He was in full-on Batman mode now. But not even the threat of Batman's wrath could sway Wally.

"I can't go," he repeated. He reached out and put a cautious hand on Bruce's arm. "Not today. I'm still processing it. Y'know, coping."

There was no response, but Wally took courage from the fact that his hand hadn't been pushed away.

"Bruce, please," Wally implored.

And then he waited to get yelled at. He braced himself for a lecture on cowardice and on using first names and giving away secret identities. He waited, but the tirade never came. To Wally's surprise, the harshness in Bruce's jaw softened. The man let out a resigned sigh.

"Very well, you won't join me for preliminary research," Bruce snapped. "But only today, because you may still be in shock. Later on, you will have to go back into the city and be prepared for hostile reactions."

Wally grinned broadly, resisting the urge to get up and hug the guy. He doubted Bruce could write that off as shock. "You're the best, Bats," he said, instead.

"Don't thank me. You still have to pull your own weight in this investigation," Bruce replied. He opened his desk drawer and slapped a yellow legal pad and pen down in front of Wally. "Write down exactly what happened, from the beginning. I need every detail you can remember, for the official reports."

Wally nodded brightly. "You got it. I'll get it done."

"I'll be back in a soon. Finish the report and stay here, Flash," Bruce said.

He strode out, not waiting for a response. Wally watched him leave, still shocked that he'd managed to enlist Bruce's help. This day had been a whole host of list of surprises, from his unwelcome reception in Central City to this.

"It's because it's a Wednesday," Wally muttered as he settled down to write. "I never did like Wednesdays."

\-----

Bruce, it would appear, had no sense of time. Or maybe, he just didn't get how time worked for a speedster. He said he'd be back in "a short while". He said not to leave. But it'd been an hour since Wally had finished writing up his report and Bruce hadn't returned.

"Bored!" Wally called to the ceiling, leaning as far back in his swivel chair as he could.

He'd exhausted every time-killing distraction he could think of. That was one of the downsides of super speed. Nothing ever took very long. Wally glanced down at his report. He'd reread it twice, adding in little details here and there. It was as thorough as it'd ever be.

"I guess I can just put it back in its drawer," Wally decided aloud.

He plopped down on Bruce's side of the desk, leaning down to open the bottom rack. He slid the legal pad in, on top of a stack of various notebooks and files. Wally would have closed the drawer and gone on distracting himself but one file caught his eye. It was a manila folder with his name printed neatly on the tab.

Wally's curiosity was piqued. He wasn't one to go snooping through other peoples' things, but it did have his name on it. And it was probably harmless, nothing more important than a training report. He pulled it out and tossed it onto the desk. There was nothing wrong with knowing what the other Leaguers reported about him.

He flicked open the folder and gasped. The file was no training report, not by a long shot. Instead, it contained hundreds of schedules, lists, and analyses, all about Wally. His powers, weaknesses, favorite foods, family members and just about everything else were carefully listed. Other sheets of paper had careful catalogues of entire days, from when he woke up to when he went to sleep. Wally shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly feeling as if hundreds of eyes were watching him in the buzzing silence of Bruce's office. Everyone knew that Bruce could get a little obsessive about record keeping, but this was unprecedented. This was stalking. Extremely meticulous and carefully planned stalking.

Wally thought of the report Bruce had had him hand write, a detailed retelling of his experience in Central City recorded on paper. It wouldn't seem too out of place among the other scrupulous notes and schedules in the file. But still, could Wally just write Bruce off as a crazed stalker? Maybe there was some reasonable explanation for this that Wally just didn't see. Bruce was obsessed with his work, but there was no reason he'd be equally preoccupied with Wally.

Wally was so engrossed in the file that he didn't hear the door to Bruce's office swing open. He didn't notice Bruce until he was right beside him.

"Flash, that isn't something you were meant to see."

Wally jumped from surprise, half-falling out of his seat. He scrambled away and, in his haste, knocked the file to the ground. Papers spilled everywhere, scattering across the office floor.

"Crap, Bats, I – I didn't mean to go through your things," Wally said, getting to his feet. He rubbed a hand across his face before gesturing weakly towards the papers. "What's going on? That file is…It has more information about me than I probably know about myself. Why is this file here? Why does it even exist?"

Bruce's mouth was a thin, hard line. His expression, behind the black cowl, was unreadable. "There are some questions you shouldn't ask, Flash. You won't like the answer."

That wasn't enough to deter Wally. He had to know. Wally swallowed and when he spoke, his voice barely rose above a whisper. "Tell me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Creeper!Bruce is something I've always wanted to write and I finally got the opportunity. We'll find out exactly what Bruce's motives are soon. 
> 
> Unfortunately, you, dear reader, have been left with yet another cliffhanger.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's behavior was unprecedented and Wally needs answers. But he also needs Bruce's help saving Central City.

The uncomfortable silence in the office made Wally want to bolt. He resisted the urge to shuffle his boots, trying to look resolute. He knew he deserves an answer, but it wasn't easy to be determined when facing Bruce. But, for once, Bruce looked just as uneasy. His jaw was clenched and he seemed almost jumpy. The slightest noise from the computer in the back would make him give an almost imperceptible jump. Bruce, it seemed, was hoping for an excuse to avoid this conversation. But Wally wanted answers.

"Tell me," Wally repeated, resolute.

"I can't," came the reply. "It would affect your performance in the field. And currently, the situation in Central City is more important."

That, more than anything else that had happened, ticked Wally off. He was sick and tired of Bruce's ability to act like he was an emotionless robot. "Everything's always about efficiency and performance with you, isn't it?" Wally snapped. "How about how I feel, huh? I'm worried about my city, but I'm also worried about working with you. How am I supposed to trust you?"

But more than anything, Wally was worried about how conflicted he was. The files were creepy, no doubt about it, but he wasn't convinced that Bruce was a crazed stalker. Wally wasn't sure if he'd completely misjudged the man he'd worked with for two years. The man he had looked up to and, on a certain level, strived to be like. The thought depressed and scared Wally. He wasn't sure when Bruce had become that important. He wasn't sure that it should matter.

But the frown tugging at Bruce's lips quickly put those worries to rest. "The records aren't personal. It's for official records."

"On paper?"

"Security measure. A League computer could be compromised, so highly sensitive information is kept in a form that's easily disposed of and difficult to access."

"But I still have a right to privacy! You should've told me about this," Wally pointed out.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "It was a report, not a security detail," he said, sounding almost amused at Wally's protests. "If you knew, your behavior would have changed."

That made sense. Well, maybe Bruce wasn't actually stalking him. Or rather, he had a legitimate reason to. It was an official duty, after all. Just the Batman doing what he always did. But still, not everything added up.

"Say, why did the League want me to be watched anyways?" Wally asked.

"That's not something I'm at the liberty to tell you," Bruce said. He glanced at the clock on the wall meaningfully. "Now, we should move onto more pressing issues."

"Now, hold on," Wally said. "I deserve –"

"Flash, I am certain you deserve a lot," Bruce snapped, "but now is not the time to discuss it."

Wally huffed unhappily. Central City was more important to him than figuring all of this out, but that wasn't something he wanted to admit to Bruce. "I'm a pretty decent detective myself, Bats," he warned. "I'll figure out why eventually. Just you wait."

Bruce made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. "I don't doubt it." But then he cleared his throat and, as if he'd flipped a switch, was back in stern, Batman-mode. "But, on to Central City."

Flash nodded. "What about it?"  
"It's strange," Bruce said, "because, technically, the city doesn't exist."

\-----

It was late when Wally finally looked up. He'd been reviewing the readings and observations Bruce had taken, adding to notes that already cluttered the margins of the papers. There were various hypotheses, all amended or scribbled out multiple times and augmented with complicated diagrams and formulas. Wally had given up hope of comprehending the seemingly random series of numbers that was scrawled over one page and squinted over at Bruce. The man was typing something up rapidly, finishing a different case, he'd said. Under the bright office lights, to Wally's tired eyes, Bruce hurt to look at. Even after so many hours of working, he held himself stiff and straight. Bruce was all rigid lines and angles. Only the glow of the computer monitor gave him some trace softness, faint shadows blurring the edges of his sharp features. Wally rubbed his eyes, trying to get back on task.

"So," he muttered, still skimming over the reports, "your sensors can't find Central City?"

Bruce turned to face Wally, rubbing at his jaw. "More or less," he agreed. "Central City is visible. You can enter and exit the city easily. My sensors can't pick up on it from the outside. But once inside the city, I can sense the outside world."

"So when I went to Central City, I wasn't really there?" Wally asked.

"No, you were either teleported elsewhere or you entered some replacement of the city." Bruce narrowed his eyes, thinking. "Did you feel anything as you entered Central City?"

Wally leaned back in his chair, ignoring the protesting creak it made. "Um, maybe? But how does someone replace a whole city?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "If I knew that, this case would be closed."

Nodding, Wally stifled a yawn on the back of his hand. It wasn't until then that he realized just how tired he was. His muscles ached and just keeping his eyes open made them sting.

"You should go rest," Bruce said, standing.

"No arguing with that, Bats," Wally mumbled around another yawn. "I'm gonna go grab a nap at my place and – I mean, I'll be in my quarters."

Wally paused. He couldn't just zip into his apartment whenever he wanted, not with Central City the way it was. The full impact of everything that had happened hadn't hit Wally until just now. He wasn't just working on a case. He couldn't go back to his hometown. He was an exile. That thought made Wally feel very, very alone. The sound of Bruce mentioning that Wally should stop by Wayne Manor after he'd sleep didn't really register. Even the prospect of seeing the Batcave didn't excite Wally. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath, wondering why he'd chosen now, of all times, to break down. Wally was a grown man; he shouldn't get teary over this. Central City could come back. It would come back.

Bruce cleared his throat. "I'm going to the bridge. You can take the report on the city if you want."

He went to leave, but stopped to put a consoling hand on Wally's shoulder. Wally sighed and leaned into the touch, comforted. If Bruce noticed, he didn't mention it. He just cleared his throat again and swept out of the room. Wally didn't move from his seat for the longest time, his mind still with Central City. And, as he sat, he could still feel the weight of Bruce's warm, heavy hand on him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has his theories and Wally has his determination. Together, they might just figure out what's happened to the Central City they know and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, folks, but the fourth chapter is finally up!

Central City gave Wally the creeps. He walked down the once-familiar streets with his shoulders hunched, glad that he'd kept his identity a secret all these years. No one reacted to him the way they had to the Flash. Still, Wally was sure he'd give himself away, that something about his behavior would remind all these average folks that they hated him.

Even if he'd never admit it out loud, Wally wanted Bruce here with him – only because that would keep the speedster from giving away anything important, of course. But no, Bruce had decided it would be unwise to for the two of them to be seen together. After all, what would a billionaire from Gotham want with a police scientist? It was enough of a gamble for Bruce to even be in the city. He was risking his identity to fix this for Wally.

"I should be able to save my own city," the speedster muttered to himself as he slipped into the Central City Library.

The library was dimly lit and absolutely silent. Even the soft swish of the sliding doors seemed obscenely loud. A few people glared up at the noise. Wally made a sheepish face and hurried away. Why attract any more trouble? He hurried through the stacks until he found the help desk.

"Hi, there," Wally said, grinning as he leaned over the counter. "D'you think you could point me in the direction of the archives?"

The librarian behind the desk fixed him with a dour look. "The archives are closed."

Wally frowned. "Come on, all libraries have old archives. Y'know, all the old newspapers and stuff? I need to get some research done."

Wally didn't think it was possible, but the librarian's glare got more severe. "I'm well-aware of what archives are, sir," he said, "but they are not available for public use at this time."

"But I –" Wally started to protest.

"If you're researching things, I recommend using the computers," the librarian said. Before Wally could respond, he frowned and turned back to his work.

"Er…thanks," Wally muttered before walking away.

It was bizarre that the archives would be closed. Unless they'd been damaged, there was no reason not to keep them open. Wally glanced behind him and, sure enough, the long rows of filing cabinets, no doubt filled with everything he needed, were there. But then again, Bruce had predicted this – that, in order to keep Wally trapped and confused, any clues inside Central City would be inaccessible. And yet he still wanted them to look for evidence here. Wally rolled his eyes at that, smiling faintly at the thought of Bruce's diligence.

Wally glanced at the library computer in front him. Going with Bruce's guess, this probably wouldn't help. And a quick search of "the Flash" proved that, of course, Bruce was right. (Not that Wally had expected any different). All the results that looked promising were blocked. Wally leaned away from the computer screen, tapping his finger idly against the space key and wondering what he should try next. Just then, his phone pulsed in his pocket.

"Huh, didn't know I'd get reception in cities that don't exist," he muttered to himself as he pulled his cell phone out.

An unknown number had texted him: "Ask residents about Flash. – B."

Sometimes, it seemed like Bruce had eyes everywhere. But, hey, not a bad idea, so Wally set about to find some passersby. It wasn't until he was a few blocks away from the library that Wally realized he'd never given Bruce his personal phone number.

"I guess he's been snooping around with that damn file again," Wally muttered to himself, annoyed.

He should have demanded the information that was collected on him. League business or not, it wasn't right that no one decided to tell him. Wally made a mental note to pester Bruce about it later. But for now, he had civilians to question.

\-----

As it turned out, getting information from the people of Central City was more or less impossible. Everyone, it seemed, was ridiculously busy. At least half the people Wally tried to stop would give him an apologetic look and hurry away. It was rare that anyone paused to give Wally the time of day. And when they did, the results were more or less the same.

"Sir, could I talk to you for a second?" Wally called, stepping in front of a harried, middle-aged man.

The man gave a long-suffering sigh and nodded. "What is it?"

Wally gave a sheepish smile, going for his best tourist face. "Well, I'm new in town and I was wondering, what's the deal with the Flash? I thought the guy was a hero but no one else here does."

"A hero?" The man snorted derisively. "Look, son, we don't like to talk about him in this town. You'd be best off if you followed suit."

"But why do –" Wally scrambled to ask more from the man, but he had already started walking away.

Wally was ready to call it a day at that, when someone tugged at his elbow. He turned and found a thin old man staring intently up at him.

"Hiya, sir! Can I help you?" Wally asked brightly. Finally, someone who wanted to talk to him! Now that was a welcome change of pace.

The man pushed Wally down onto a nearby bench before plopping down next to him. Neither of them said anything for a time and watched people scurry by. But of course, Wally couldn't appreciate the silence for long.  
"Look, I don't want to be rude or anything, but I'm kind of busy, so do you need some help or something?" he asked.

"I heard you asking about The Flash," the man replied, dropping his voice to a whisper at the last two words.

Wally nodded, unsure if the whispering was just theatrics or if the speedster's name was really so taboo.

"Don't be asking about him," the man replied, poking Wally in the arm.

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," Wally snapped. "It's just some big secret that no one wants to mention. Heck, I can't even look the guy up at the library."

The man nodded sagely. "No one likes to discuss bad things."

"But what bad things happened? What did he do?"

The bench they were sitting on creaked as the two of them leaned closer together, conspiratorially. Wally was startled by the anger in the old man's watery, blurry eyes.

"He was our hero," the man muttered, mostly to himself, "and he betrayed us. For what? Power that gave him the satisfaction our appreciation couldn't."

Wally swallowed. Sure, he'd wanted fame and money before – heck, an embarrassing series of TV ads could attest to that. But there was a difference between endorsing energy bars and what this old man was implying.

"He stole from banks, tore down buildings, and killed hundreds," the man continued, "and when he'd done as much damage as he could manage, he disappeared. That was a few years back. There've been a few odd sightings since then, but I don't believe 'em."

"Why?" Wally asked. He could feel a lump in his throat, guilt over things he'd never done making him choke.

The old man gazed steadily at Wally, mouth a grim line. "The man – if you can still call him that – is a coward. He'd never be able to face this city again."

Shaking his head unhappily, the man stood. He clapped a hand on Wally's shoulder. "We don't speak about it; maybe we're just trying very hard to forget. It's not working, though. No one in this city is sure how to trust anymore."

He disappeared, swept up in the stream of harried businesspeople rushing by. Wally didn't move for the long time. His very presence in Central City seemed insulting. He felt dirty, evil, and entirely unable to distance himself from his counterpart in this world. Sure, it wasn't him who destroyed this town for a bigger paycheck. But it was some world's version of him. As far as Wally was concerned, it was still him. They were more closely tied than blood relatives. And if debts could be passed on within a family, the cost of innocent lives here most certainly weighed down on Wally.

Possessed by an unbearable unhappiness, Wally pulled out his phone and found the number that had texted him not too long ago. It was with shaky hands that he pressed the green call button.

"I don't want to be here anymore," he said as soon as Bruce picked up.

"Did you get any information?" The voice sounded tinny and cold through the phone.

"Well, yeah, I guess. Kind of," Wally said. "Nothing to help fix this mess though."

"Then you need to keep looking. We both do."

"Can we try some other leads?"

"What other leads?" Bruce sounded annoyed. He obviously hadn't heard anything helpful either.

"Didn't you mention talking to people outside of Central City?" Wally asked hopefully. "Let's do that. I – I just really don't like being here," he admitted quietly.

There was a pause on the other end. Wally imagined Bruce scowling at the phone in his hand, at the inefficiency and time wasted that Wally's feelings presented. He waited for Bruce to refuse, order him to keep working.

"We'll meet at the rendezvous point in ten," Bruce said curtly.

Wally smiled into the phone; maybe Bats wasn't the emotionless robot everyone made him out to be.

"And Wally," Bruce continued, catching the speedster's attention at the use of his name, "Remember that what people here say about you isn't true. It doesn't represent how we actually feel about you."

It's entirely possible that Wally's heart sped up a little at that. Sure, Bruce was referring to the townsfolk, but that didn't stop a guy from hoping. And maybe Wally didn't completely believe Bruce's words, but for now, he'd take all the little comforts he could get.

\-----

Wally had always been a social creature. He got on nicely with most of the people he met, once they got used to the fact that he talked almost constantly. He liked making people laugh and giggle, even if he annoyed the more serious types. But what he hadn't realized was how much he needed to be approved of. Making people around him happy kept the Flash going more than sugary food ever could. And boy, he had definitely missed people liking the Flash. So, when Wally walked into the diner outside of Central City in costume with Batman, the smiles on people's faces made him sigh with relief.

"I missed this," he muttered.

Bruce looked down at him skeptically. Of course, how was he supposed to know how Wally felt? The Batman was all fear and mystery, not your friendly neighborhood superhero. It seemed like a lonely way to live. Wally risked a concerned glance towards Bruce, flushing when their gazes crossed paths.

"We should figure out who to question," Wally said hurriedly, hoping to cover up the awkward moment.

"Heya, folks!" he called out to the diners, ignoring how Bruce stiffened next to him in surprise. "We're here on Justice League business and have some important questions we need answered. We want to talk to anyone who has friends or family living in Central City!"

For a second, everyone in the diner just stared. Wally worried that he'd only succeeded in making an awkward situation worse. But to his relief, a middle-aged woman in the back waved him over.

"Oh, sit on down," she said kindly. "My son works in the city, by the way."

Wally slid into the diner booth and looked up at Bruce expectantly. Did he really think looming unhappily over this woman would get her to talk?

"Come on, grab a seat," Wally said, as the woman nodded in agreement. She seemed impervious to the dark Bat-glare that made even hardened criminals shudder.

Bruce pressed his lips together in annoyance, but relented. Wally scooted over on the vinyl seat to make room for Bruce to slide in. The booth seemed too crowded as Bruce's shoulder brushed up against Wally's.

Clearing his throat, Wally put his attention back on the smiling woman in front of him. "So, miss…"

"Just call me Jill," the woman supplied.

"Of course. Now, you mentioned your son?" Wally asked.

Jill nodded. "He's an accountant in Central City. Actually, it's odd that you should be asking about people from there."

Bruce leaned forward, suddenly interested. "Has something happened?"

The woman nodded, worry dulling the brightness of her green eyes. "He's gotten odd, lately. He's so tense and unhappy all the time. At first, I thought it was just stress from work. But he's completely different now."

"Like what?" Wally pressed.

Jill frowned. "He seems so concerned with the city being in danger. He's so scared of…well." She paused.

"What is he scared of?"

Jill flushed slightly, as if the answer reflected poorly on her. "He's scared of the Flash attacking. Of you! Can you imagine?"

Wally looked over at Bruce, eyebrows raised. That certainly sounded familiar.

"No, that's definitely odd." Wally told the woman. "We'll have to look into that.

Bruce glanced over at Jill. "Thank you for your time, ma'am. You've certainly helped."

He edged out of the booth and hurried out of the diner, gesturing for Wally to follow. Wally tossed Jill a grin in thanks and followed Bruce out the door.

"Well?" Wally demanded once they were outside. "What do you think?"

"It confirmed my theory," Bruce answered after looking around for eavesdroppers.

"Which is?"

Bruce made an annoyed noise, as if Wally's failure to keep up with his mind was a major inconvenience. "Based on what you heard from the man in the city and what this woman had to say, this Central City is a kind of parallel world. It's occupying the space that our city used to be in."

Wally cocked his head to one side, thinking. "Wait, that means our city is in…"

"In the world of the murderous Flash that everyone here is scared of."

"But our universe's Central City doesn't know that their Flash is evil," Wally spluttered. "They're in danger!"

"Unfortunately, that would seem to be the case," Bruce agreed. "But we can't focus on that now. We need to keep our attention of getting them all back."

Wally bit his lip, unable to keep his mind away from his people. What would happen if that Flash chose to attack? It was the Flash's duty to keep them safe, but how was he supposed to manage that from a different dimension?

\-----

Cars weren't Wally's preferred method of transportation. Who needed a vehicle when you were the fastest man on earth? But that certainly hadn't kept him from refusing Bruce's offer to drive him back to Gotham. Wally only agreed because he wanted a chance to ride in the Batmobile. That was all.

The two didn't drive quietly – as if that would be possible with a speedster in the car – but instead bounced ideas off each other. Wally would name his least-favorite rogues and Bruce would consider ways they could have pulled this off.

"This would be easier if you just had a database on them," Bruce said, as Wally paused to count up the villains he'd mentioned and pondered who was next on the list.

"Who has time for all that?" Wally mumbled around a donut. He'd insisted on picked up a baker's dozen at the diner, crumbs in the car be damned. "I have a life outside of being an awesome superhero!"

"Erm, I mean, not that you don't, Bats," he added hastily, remembering Bruce's extensive research on everything, villainous or otherwise.

Bruce scowled at him and Wally reflected that, perhaps, it wasn't a good idea to get into a small, enclosed space with an angry vigilante that he always managed to piss off. He had to change the subject, fast.

"But, uh, speaking of research, how about that super-creepy file the Justice League had you make about me?" Wally said. He groaned inwardly as he realized just what conversation topic he'd chosen. Sometimes, he wished he thought a little faster than he could run his mouth. But right now, his main hope was that he didn't get a highly concentrated dose of Bat-glare.

"What about it?" Bruce said, interrupting Wally's thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, you're not going to kill me? That's nice," Wally babbled, before blushing as he realized that he was, in fact, babbling. "I meant you never told me why you were stalking – er, researching me."

Bruce didn't respond, looking amused. Wally rolled his eyes. Of course Bats would choose to develop a sense of humor now, just in time to make fun of Wally's awkwardness.

"If I remember correctly," Bruce mused, "you said you'd figure that out on your own. Something about being a good detective?"

"I could, but I'm a bit busy at the moment," Wally said, leaning over the gearshift. "But you could do me a favor and just tell me." He batted his eyelashes at Bruce, grinning.

Bruce kept his eyes on the road, and for a second, Wally panicked. His judgment was telling him flirting with Batman wasn't the best idea. He started thinking up excuses – a sugar rush or stress or – but then Bruce smirked. That unusual but completely welcome expression gave Wally courage he didn't realize he had. He reached over and put a tentative hand on Bruce's arm.

"What do you say, Bats?" Wally asked. "How can I convince you to tell me? I'm rather persuasive."

"You shouldn't distract someone when they're driving," Bruce chided, but he certainly didn't sound unhappy.

"So stop driving and we can get on with this conversation."

The words were barely out of Wally's mouth when the car jolted to a stop on the shoulder of some dark inter-state highway. Wally blinked, startled. This wasn't the reaction he'd expected. And he wasn't certain that they were just joking around. Hell, he wasn't sure he wanted this to be them just joking around.

Bruce turned to face him, face shrouded by the darkness outside. He reached up and hit the light, not that it helped much. Bruce's face, under the cowl, gave nothing away. Wally was still uncertain and anxious but eager for whatever was going to happen next.

"Now what?" Wally asked, dropping all pretense of flirting. His heart was pounding double time in his chest and he didn't trust himself to say anything more. He looked around, hoping to find a sign that he wasn't going to screw up whatever was happening.

Bruce opened his mouth to respond when Wally noticed something. The lights inside the car, on such a dark night, had turned the windows into mirrors. In the driver's side one, Wally could see his own face's likeness, half-hidden by a cowl. He noticed how it reflected Bruce's left arm, still holding onto the steering wheel. Only in the reflection, everything was opposite. It was simple really – a trick of light they'd been taught about in school.

Wally went to turn his attention back to Bruce – it was so typical of the speedster to get distracted at a time like this – when it hit him. In the mirror, everything was opposite.

"Bruce," Wally said, talking over whatever the man was about to say, "I know what's going on in Central City!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wally knows exactly who is responsible for this bit of villainy. Do you? (If not, don't fret! You'll find out soon.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Wally may have found the man responsible for the Central City fiasco.

The Batcave was really something to marvel at, which probably explained why Wally was looking at it with his jaw slack. The high, arching ceiling was shrouded in darkness, but the solid black seemed to shift slightly. Wally stared for a long while before realizing the movements came from clusters of nesting bats. He shuddered and looked away, his attention caught by the huge monitors hiding under an alcove. Wally wasn't much of a computer guy, but even he could tell that Bruce's were extremely technologically advanced. And then there was the array of old costumes; Wally couldn't decide if they were heartwarming or devastating. He pressed a palm against one of the glass panes, the one that protected Bruce's uniform, wonderingly. For a brief second, he wished he could feel the stiff leather of the costume, as if touching it would explain things that Bruce never would. Wally was glad he'd agreed to discuss the latest Central City theory at the Batcave. They were nearby, Bruce would be able to research as they spoke, and Wally would have hated to pass up the chance to look around.

And there was the added bonus of Bruce taking off his cowl, but Wally tried not to let his mind dwell on that for too long. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned to Bruce, who had settled into the chair before the computer bank.

"Your theory?" Bruce prompted.

Wally cocked his head to the side. "Let's have a trade. My theory for your reason the League wanted you to make a file on me."

"Fixing Central City takes precedence over that," Bruce snapped, annoyed.

"Will you stop with the guilt tripping? I know Central City is important," Wally replied. "Do you think I don't care about my city? Besides, why do you keep mentioning it? Why do you care about Central City?"

"Because you care about it."

Oh. Something about the earnestness in Bruce's eyes made Wally shuffle his feet and look away. "Well, I care about the file too."

Bruce sighed through his nose. "Just put it on the back burner for now," he said. "If you're concerned, remember that the file was made with your well-being in mind. I'll tell you about it after this mission is finished. I promise." He put a hand out to shake.

"You would tell me not to trust you on something like this," Wally protested. But he felt compelled to shake on the promise anyways, trying not to focus on the warmth and heft of the hand he held.

Bruce's grip tightened. "I'm not always right," he murmured, so quiet Wally had to lean closer to hear him.

They stilled. Wally felt like he was bending over at the brink of an abyss, trying to see the bottom, with only the strong grasp of Bruce's hand keeping him up. He took in the impossibly dark blue eyes that stared steadily back at him. It would be so easy, Wally realized, to just lean closer and let gravity finish the work for him. He could collapse into the sturdy frame of the man before him. It was just a quick jump over the edge.

Before Wally could gather the courage to do anything, something beeped on the monitors. The sound startled them back to reality. Wally pulled his hand away, although reluctantly, and cleared his throat.

"Um, so, the person who did this," he said, waving his hands to indicate the city. "I think it's Mirror Master. Heck – I'm sure it is!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes, thinking. "I wasn't aware he could do so much with his mirrors," he said. "Reflections and laser guns are one thing. But accessing an alternate reality?"

"He's done things like it before," Wally replied. He leaned against the wall and rubbed his chin, thinking. "It could work, even though it would take a ton of resources. Mirror Master could set up a way for everyone entering Central City to automatically pass through a mirror that took them to this alternate city. And in this parallel universe, everyone trying to get to their Central City would end up in ours."

Bruce hummed tonelessly, thinking. "That's…plausible," he said at last, almost reluctantly. "And he'd have the motive. He's probably the only person with the ability to access both cities at the moment. His illicit activities will be a lot easier to carry out when you're not there."

Wally nodded excitedly. "Exactly!"

"But, it seems like a lot of effort for the sake of being able to steal more easily," Bruce mused. "And it would take resources Mirror Master most likely doesn't possess. There may be something bigger going on here."

Wally frowned. "Don't over-think it, Bruce," he insisted. "We have a 'Number One Suspect' now. Let's get rid of the mirrors and catch the bad guy. He'll tell us if there's anything more sinister going on."

"We haven't confirmed that it's Mirror Master who did this. And even then, we'll have to find a way to return the cities back to their correct locations," Bruce countered.

"No, we don't," Wally said. "We just have to persuade Mirror Master to fix it, before things get really ugly for him."

Bruce grunted, not really responding. "Barreling into this with the intent of just beating someone up won't help. We need to back up our suspicions and create a plan."

"How do we 'back up' all this?" Wally asked. "I'd rather go and interrogate some of the guys up at the bar the villains hang out in. They could tip us off."

"We're going to go over everything we have on Mirror Master," Bruce replied, ignoring Wally's suggestion. "And look for unusual shipments that went out to Central City – anything from steel and rivets to glass and mirrors. That's the first step: basic research."

Wally groaned aloud. The thought of spending even more time scanning dull, black-and-white lines of text seemed abhorrent. He frowned at Bruce. "Do we have to? I can just run around and see if anyone's heard anything. Just keep me from researching."

Bruce rolled his eyes and, if Wally wasn't imagining things, quirked up the corner of his mouth. "Sit and start reading."

Wally made another noise of protest before slumping into a nearby chair in defeat. He peeked at Bruce – no, Wally hadn't imagined it. Bruce was smirking. It was definitely real. Somehow, that tiny, nondescript expression made Wally's stomach flip. He sighed as he resigned himself to long hours of reading. But with the reward of stealing quick looks at that small smile and feeling Bruce's steady presence beside him, it felt like a fair price to pay.


	6. Chapter 6

There was a stark, startling sort of beauty in the way Bruce Wayne worked. When he had an idea, all of his attention seemed to concentrate on that single, solitary thought. He hunched forward in his seat, elegant fingers flying over the keyboard, and started intently at the monitor. The numbers flitting across the screen were reflected in his gaze. He seemed almost predatory in his pursuit of the truth.

It was a side of Bruce that Wally had never seen before. Batman had all the intellect, but it was more subdued, hidden beneath the cowl. And the billionaire-playboy version of Bruce was intense, but in less serious era. This version of Bruce, Wally guessed, was a bit more genuine. He stepped up behind Bruce's chair, trying to make out what was on the screen.

"Did you find something?" he asked in a hushed voice, worried that he'd be a distraction.

"I – maybe," came the reply after a long pause. "It's something I didn't catch from my previous readings."

Bruce inclined his head towards Wally ever so slightly. "What do you think?"

Wally squinted at the mess of numbers on the monitor. "I'm not really sure, to be honest. Is there a graph or something I can look at?"

Bruce hummed noncommittally, turning away again. "Try this."

He tapped a few keys and a map of Central City appeared, with concentric circles pulsing out from the center. The circles traveled across the entirety of the city, never fading or growing weaker, until they reached the city limits, at which point they disappeared entirely.

"What is this?" Wally asked. "Is there a radio tower or something that's sending information out?"

"It's a simulation of some of the data on spatial and temporal disturbances I collected when I was in Central City," Bruce replied. He gestured towards the center of the circles. "Something there has brought the alternate city into our world. It generates the signals necessary to keep it in existence. It'd take a massive amount of power to maintain something like that."

"Do you know where the signal's coming from?" Wally asked.

"According to the city records, it was a big department store that went out of business recently. Currently, the space is being leased to private tenants."

"'Private tenants'? That sounds promising."

"It's certainly suspicious."

"But the signal hasn't gone outside of the city limits," Wally added. "Do you reckon Mirror Master had something to do with that? He could set up a collection of mirrors to keep everything contained."

"It would have been noticed by now. Mirrors aren't exactly inconspicuous," Bruce said.

"I dunno, Mirror Master can be pretty clever when he wants to be," Wally countered. "I think it's worth checking out."

"You want to go inspect the city limits?"

Wally nodded. "Do you want to come with me?" he asked, wincing slightly at how eager he sounded.

Bruce must have picked up on it, if his slight smirk was anything to go by. "I'll stay here and figure out exactly what's going on in that department store."

"Well, don't go storming the place without me," Wally warned. "I want to have a crack at Mirror Master myself. It's my city he messed with, after all."

"Of course. Make sure to report back." Bruce's gaze flickered across Wally's frame appraisingly. "You should get out of that suit."  
"I – sorry, what?" Wally shook his head, trying hard to ignore the various implications of that statement that flashed through his mind.

Bruce gave him a bland stare. "We've established that going to Central City as Flash would be problematic. You'd be better suited as Wally West."

"Right, sure, I'll just change into civvies along the way," Wally said, trying to regain his calm.

He turned on his heel and stalked away away, blushing furiously. He could feel Bruce's eyes following him all the way out of the Cave.

\-----

It was the total simplicity of the plan that bugged Wally the most. The clue had been right here, literally under his nose, and he'd failed to notice it. He knelt down on the ground, rubbing his thumb along the impossibly narrow strip of reflective glass that had been installed into the sidewalk crack.

"I'm considering this a win for me, Bats," Wally said, grinning even though Bruce couldn't see him.

"Names," came the reply. "And I didn't realize this was a competition."

"'Course it is!" Wally said, rolling his eyes at Bruce's warning. "This counts as another time that I was right."

"Why's that?"

"There's a mirror here. I bet it goes all the way around the city, holding in the signal," Wally said. "You didn't think Mirror Master could pull it off, but here's the proof."

"But I found the signal in the first place," Bruce countered.

Wally smiled, delighted that Bruce – the stern, grim-faced Batman – would stoop to debate this with him. He rocked back on his heels, babbling happily into the phone. The rare, playful lilt in Bruce's voice, and the knowledge that he was the reason it was there, made him almost giddy. Wally was so engrossed in his conversation that he didn't notice the presence behind him until someone grabbed him by the shoulder.

He whipped around, scrambling to his feet.

"Um, hey there," Wally said, heart suddenly leaping to his throat. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Is someone there?" Bruce's voice was calm, but Wally could sense the concern beneath the words.

"I'll have to call you back," Wally said, ending the call and shoving the phone into his pocket.

"What are you doing here?" the man said. He was bald and thickset, muscles bulging under a collared shirt.

"Oh I'm just, uh, looking around the city," Wally replied, putting on his cheesiest grin. "Seeing some sights."

"There's nothing to see here." The man gestured to the surrounding area. "Why are you so interested in the ground?"

Wally nodded. "You're right, there's nothing here. I guess I should probably go, then. I'll just be heading out."

He'd just started to hurry away when the man swung at him. Sensing the movement out of the corner of his eye, Wally ducked and spun around.

"Hey, I don't want any trouble," he started, but the man ignored him, coming at him with fists raised.

Wally could feel a droplet of sweat sliding down his spine. This was definitely a bad fight to get into. Normally, the Flash could easily overpower some random thug. But Wally was a civilian right now – any abnormal display of speed could give his secret identity away. With this worry in mind, Wally scrambled away from the man. Getting away would be better than risking an actual fight. He just started to turn and run when another hand seized him at the wrist and coarse sack was pulled over his head.

"Hey, get off!" Wally yelled, startled.

He twisted and flailed wildly, but to no avail. Apparently, the burly thug had a few friends Wally hadn't noticed. Wally continued to struggle against the arms that wrapped around him, but they wouldn't give. He kicked and elbowed anything he could feel until something hard struck him in the head. The world lost focus and sounds melted together as Wally slipped into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite the field he worked in, Wally wasn't used to waking up tied to a chair with a throbbing headache. His general policy with bad guys was "beat 'em up and run before they catch you". So this situation was definitely new.

Wally squinted in the gloom, trying to make out his surroundings. His kidnappers hadn't blindfolded him, but the darkness made it unnecessary. Only vague shapes loomed around him, all uncertain and unfriendly. A dull thumping in the distance made Wally sit up in his chair, struggling against the ropes that bound his chest and arms. But he slumped in his seat when he realized the noise was just his heart pounding against his rib cage.

Trying to focus, Wally tested the knots around his wrists that kept his arms in place. They were tight, biting into his skin hard enough to cut off circulation. But, if no one was around, Wally could vibrate his way out. He checked his surroundings briefly, thankful that his eyes had started to adjust to the gloom. As far as he could tell, none of his captors were present. He closed his eyes and exhaled, focusing. Slowly, he began to tremble. The vibrations picked up speed, making the chair and surrounding area shake. Wally ignored the sensation, a bizarre feeling that every molecule in his body was knocking itself out of place, and soon felt the ropes fall away from around him.

He grinned and hopped to his feet.

"Now," he murmured to himself, mostly because the dialogue would help him focus, "time for an equipment check."

Unfortunately, this didn't last very long. A quick palming of his pockets showed Wally that his captors had taken everything from his phone to the League communicator shoved into his wallet. Worst of all, Wally had forgotten to bring one of the rings he kept his Flash costumes in. He'd have to figure out an escape route without displaying any of his powers.

Wally rubbed a hand over his face. This wasn't going to be easy. With a resigned sigh, he hurried out of the room, unsure of what he would find outside.

\-----

It was surprisingly easy for Wally to figure out where he was. Even when empty, department stores have a distinctive air. Something about the wide-open spaces and speckled, white tiles made Wally certain that he was in the store Bruce had pointed out only a few hours ago.

He was in the same building that kept whatever machine created the alternate, hostile Central City. Wally swallowed, glancing around nervously to check for attackers. But so far, everything looked deserted. The silence made Wally's skin crawl. Every fiber of his being longed to curl up and hide.

Wally shook his head, trying to ignore the thought. "No, I just need to get out of here."

But even that seemed unwise. How was Wally supposed to just stroll out of this place? The fact that he hadn't been caught yet was a miracle in itself. There had to be some other option. Why leave when the source of this whole mess was in the building with Wally? At the very least, he could wreak some havoc and bring the fake Central City crashing down.

But just as Wally was struck by this idea, every alarm in the building went off. Wally bit back a surprised yell and wheeled around, trying to find a hiding spot. He could hear, over the shrill din of the alarms, men yelling and footsteps rushing towards him. Cursing to himself, Wally turned and ran, struggling to stay at a quick but normal pace. He sprinted towards the back of the store, where winding hallways and dressing rooms would serve as hiding spots.

Wally rounded a corner and caught a glimpse of a closet near the end of the hall. He scrambled over the linoleum floor towards it when a dark figure sprinted towards him, looming out of nowhere.

"Wait, is that Br –" Before Wally could finish the thought, the figure grabbed him by the nape of his neck and yanked him unceremoniously into the closet.

The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the wailing sirens. Loud footsteps thundered past, Wally felt himself pressed against leather body armor and warm skin.

"Well, this is awkward," he muttered. "Nice save, Bats."

"Be glad that I managed to rescue you," Bruce snapped back, voice hushed.

"How did you even find me?" Wally asked, although he'd already written it up to the mysterious machinations of the Bat-intellect.

"I was on surveillance for the store when I saw some men bringing you in." Bruce huffed angrily. "You were supposed to be collecting information, not getting kidnapped!"

Wally smiled; even getting yelled at by Bruce was preferable to being tied up and alone in some random store. And, even if he would only admit it to himself, Wally was more than a little fond Bruce. He couldn't have chosen a better person to be rescued by.

"As much as I love being the damsel in distress," Wally said, pointedly ignoring Bruce's bad mood, "we should probably make plan."

"Plan for what, exactly?"

Wally grinned, even though he knew Bruce couldn't see him. "We're going to take out the generator."

"We have no idea how the machine works or if its signals can be stopped," Bruce protested, ever the pessimist.

"I'll leave that sort of stuff to you," Wally said, waving a hand. "For now, let's go scope it out. You're the one who's always concerned with research. More information won't hurt. You wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you?"

Bruce sighed, slow and long-suffering, before nodding. "Basement."

"Bats, I knew there was a reason I kept you around," Wally replied, smirking. He shifted uncomfortably; it was abundantly clear that supply closets were not made to house two adult men. He went to leave when Bruce put a stalling hand on his shoulder.

"I picked up something at the Watchtower."

Wally felt something small and metallic being pressed into his palm and grinned as he recognized the round shape. It was one of the many rings he kept his spare costumes stuffed in. But the smile quickly disappeared as he noted a slight problem.

"If I become Flash and Wally West suddenly disappears, won't that be suspicious?" he whispered.  
"The thugs that picked you up did so because you were a snooping civilian," Bruce replied. "They've probably already forgotten you're here. And the Flash showing up to save the day in Central City isn't much of an anomaly."

Wally nodded. It all made sense. Then again, with Bruce, it always did. He shook his head, tightening his fist around the ring almost reverently.

"This is the best," he muttered to himself. Now, he could engage in some real super-heroics without worrying about his identity being revealed. Wally glanced up at Bruce. "You sure know how to choose the best presents. Bats, I could kiss you!"

Bruce chuckled, an odd sound when it came for the cowl. Something about the laugh was oddly appealing; Wally couldn't hold back the smile. And maybe it was the cramped quarters or the kidnapping or the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, but Wally found himself leaning forward, letting his eyes shut as he pressed his mouth against Bruce's.

The kiss was quick and dry, the chastest one he could remember giving in a long time. It was a simple movement, lips against lips in one short, light brush of skin. As Wally moved back, his head spun. He was mortified with himself. How could he just kiss Bruce? That wasn't socially acceptable, no matter what vibes he thought he'd been picking up from the guy. Heck, Wally could be completely wrong about –

A warm, gloved hand pressed against Wally's cheek, completely derailing his thoughts.

"Thank you," Bruce murmured in a low voice that made Wally's stomach do backflips.

But before Wally could act on that particular feeling, Bruce pulled away and made to open the closet door.

"We have a generator to shut down. Best not to get distracted," he explained, smirking. "Now get suited up and let's go."

He stepped out of the tiny room and the door clacked shut behind him. Wally stood stock still for a few moments, still unsure of what had happened. Then he punched the air triumphantly. Compared to taking the risk of kissing the Batman, stopping Mirror Master was going to be a piece of cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow updates! College applications have been sucking all the desire to write out of me. But thanks for reading and please keep doing so!


	8. Chapter 8

"How much further do we have to go?"

Wally panted out the words, leaning against the wall of the stairwell. He tried to ignore the ache in his bones and the stinging of his split lip.

"We're just about there. The basement was lower than I thought," Bruce replied.

Wally nodded before looking back up the stairs. They'd had to fight their way down, all while remaining as quiet as possible. It was an easy thing for Bruce, since stealth was his  _modus operandi_ , but not so much for the speedster. Mouthing off while fighting had become something of a bad habit.

"Do we need to stop and rest?" Bruce seemed unusually concerned.

Wally raised an eyebrow. He hadn't realized that empathy worked with the Batman persona. "I'll be fine. Just a bit tired," he said. "Let's go and get my city back."

* * *

The generator was a massive feat, a sprawling mess of wires and metal. The center of it sported a long, spindly tower – no doubt the source of the signal. Wally paused to marvel at how the machine had been built without detection. All the materials had to be shipped into the city and assembled in this basement, but Wally had never caught on.

"How did I not notice this?" Wally murmured, somewhat ashamed. What if this whole catastrophe could have been avoided?

"You weren't expecting it," Bruce replied. Surprisingly, there was no note of condescension in his words, just a simple statement of fact. "But it's here now, so we'll have to deal with it."

"Let me guess, smashing that tower won't be enough?"

A sudden burst of laughter made Wally start. He stepped back, feeling Bruce tense up beside him.

"It certainly won't be, Flash!" A voice crowed from the distance. "You'll have to get through me first!"

A figure, decked out in bright orange and green, stepped out from the shadows.

"Mirror Master! Looks like I was right," Wally said. He crossed his arms. "I'll give you a chance to give up peacefully. Put Central City back the way it was!"

Bruce turned to glare. "What are you doing, Flash? This man is a criminal. We can't just have him running lose."

"Not to worry, Batman," Mirror Master called over, interrupting the dispute. "I have no intention of surrendering."

Without warning, he swept out his arm, sending hundreds of mirrors scattering around the two heroes. In seconds, hundreds of copies of Mirror Master sprung up, all looking menacing. They paused for a moment, giving the villain a chance to laugh maniacally, before springing into action.

Wally and Bruce split up, each sprinting to different parts of the basement. Wally moved to punch one of the Mirror Masters before him, before passing through him and crashing to the ground.

"Damn it!" he cursed. "I forgot they're not real."

He scrambled to his feet, pushing past the images of Mirror Master and crushing mirrors underfoot. Wally really hoped that whole seven-years-of-bad-luck thing was just an old wives' tale.

"Flash!" Bruce yelled from across the basement, catching Wally's attention. "Hold off Mirror Master. I just need a few minutes to recalibrate the generator and bring back Central City."

"Yeah, that would be a lot easier if I could find the real guy!" Wally called back, breaking what felt like his millionth mirror.

He swung around so his back was to Bruce, determined to stop any of the Mirror Masters from disrupting the reprogramming. As if on cue, the hundreds of copies all pulled out a laser pistol, training it on Wally.

"Oh come on, you're all fake and so are those weapons! It's not like you can actually hurt me with that," Wally said, grinning.

"One of us can," the figures replied in unison.

The cocky grin fell off Wally's face. He hadn't thought of that. He swore and sprinted out of the way, just in time to narrowly avoid getting him square in the chest from a laser burst.

Wally backed away from the crowd of Mirror Masters, breathing hard. He couldn't keep fighting them one at a time, breaking each individual mirror. There had to be a way to destroy all the fake villains at once.

Then it hit him.

"Hold onto that cowl, Bats!" Wally called and sprung into action.

He starting sprinting, making a circular path around all of the Mirror Masters and hemming them in. Each time he completed the circuitous route, he sped up. Wally pushed harder against his protesting muscles and burning lungs. The rest of the world blurred into a mass of indiscernible colors and the protesting yells of Mirror Master.

Finally, just when Wally was sure his legs would give out, it happened. His speed created a miniature vortex, whirling winds tossing the mirrors on the ground up into the air.

"Yes!" Wally crowed and skidded to a halt.

As the winds died down, the mirrors arched gracefully back down towards the ground.

"No!" the Mirror Masters shouted, realizing what had happened.

All together, hundreds of mirrors shattered against the concrete floor of the basement. The images of Mirror Master flickered briefly and then winked out of existence. Only one remained, glowering and pulling out a laser gun.

"It's just you and me now," Wally said, trying (and failing) to sound less out of breath.

"Don't act so cocky," Mirror Master snarled. "I can still shoot you down."

"I've outrun that pea-shooter before," Wally replied. He stalled, hoping to regain some of his strength. "You think I can't this time?"

"Look at yourself. You're too tired to run. This is it, Flash."

Mirror Master cocked the gun, about to fire, when a Batarang whirled out from the darkness and smacked the weapon out of his hand. The villain howled in pain as Bruce stepped up next to Wally.

"If you don't want things to get ugly, I recommend you let us drop you off at the police station," Bruce growled. He glanced towards Wally and his gaze softened. "It's done."

"You hear that, Mirror Master? You're over. Central City is back to normal and your plan is finished," Wally said, grinning triumphantly.

Mirror Master didn't bother responding. He fished another mirror out of his pocket and threw it onto the ground. Before Bruce or Wally could stop him, he hopped into the reflective surface and disappeared.

Wally started towards the mirror, but a hand on his shoulder made him pause.

"Don't bother," Bruce said. "He's probably in some different dimension now. There's no use trying to catch him."

"Oh, great," Wally replied, genuinely enthused. He didn't have the energy to go on some chase through those mirrors. "I think I've had enough mirrors to last a lifetime."

He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced up at Bruce. "But everything's good, right? My city is back to its usual self?"

A rare smile appeared on Bruce's face, jarringly out of place beneath Batman's cowl. Wally loved it. Unable to let rational thought stop him, Wally leaned up and kissed Bruce.

Wally half-expected to be pushed away, yelled at for taking a risk. But he was pleasantly surprised. Bruce wrapped a hand around the speedster's waist, opening his mouth against Wally's. Wally felt the wet sweep of tongue against his lower lip and moaned. But, just as quickly as he'd come, Bruce pulled away.

"Hey, no," Wally whined, leaning in again.

"We have other things to attend to," Bruce replied, nodding to indicate the city.

Wally huffed unhappily and crossed his arms, perfectly willing to act like a little kid if it would get Bruce pressed against him again. But a sudden thought made him perk up.

"Hold on, we can't head outside just yet," Wally said.

"What else is there? We can have the police pick up Mirror Master's thugs."

"Not that. You're forgetting your promise." When Bruce showed no signs of remembering, Wally shook his head in mock affront. "You said that once this case was over, once Central City was back, you'd tell me why the League had you collect information about me."

Bruce stiffened. Even under his cowl, the surprise on his face was obvious. None of those reactions comforted Wally very much.

"Why were those files made?" Wally repeated, voice low and serious.

Bruce sighed and scrubbed a hand across his jaw. "You're not going to like the answer."

"You promised. Don't try to back out now."

The set of Bruce's mouth was grim as he reached up to take Wally's hand. "I'm sorry."

And he began to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading thus far. There are (probably) two more chapters to go!


	9. Chapter 9

Central City was a wasteland. It looked like a whirlwind passed through the shops, leaving the doors on their hinges and the cash registers completely empty. Broken toys, clothes still attached to hangers, and trampled food littered the sidewalks. Cars lay crushed and overturned in the streets. Thankfully, most of them were empty.

Wally checked on residential areas, where people were crying about money and goods taken at gunpoint. The windows on houses were smashed and flower gardens were uprooted. Schools, Wally was relieved to find, had been left mostly alone. And the police and firefighters still seemed functional. Men in blue uniforms directed people to safety as a firetruck raced towards the burning buildings in the distance.

People watched Wally pass with wary eyes, frightened at first before recognizing his crooked smile and friendly wave.

"Looks like the other Flash left this place a mess, huh?" Wally asked the sheriff, Stan.

Stan nodded, rubbing his hand through the scruff on his chin. "We thought he was you at first, but when he started helping Mirror Master and his goons with the looting, we realized that Flash wasn't exactly friendly."

"I'm sorry. I should've been here to stop him. Central City shouldn't have been hurt like this."

"Don't be ridiculous. From the rumors I've been hearing at the station, you were trapped in some alternate dimension." Stan shook his head and watched as families made their way down the street. "Villains and there crazy schemes. At least you managed to stop it before anything serious happened."

Wally nodded. "I guess. The League is sending someone to talk to the press, explain exactly what happened here."

"Good, the people deserve to know." Stan clapped a hand on Wally's shoulder. "And if you can get some of your superheroes to help with clean-up, we'd be really thankful."

Stan walked away, calling something into his walkie-talkie as he went. Central City was in good hands, it seemed, even when Wally couldn't watch over it. He turned and started to run, making his way through various streets in the city, helping people as he went. He pulled family keepsakes from burning houses, returned lost kids to their parents, and delivered food to the community centers that had been made into emergency shelters. He worked as long as he could, until the sun had sunk low in the sky and most people retreated inside. The far-off wail of sirens echoed through the empty streets.

"You should probably rest," a voice said from behind Wally, "and continue helping tomorrow."

"There's work to be done now," Wally said without turning.

"Flash –"

"Don't tell me what to do, Batman," Wally snapped.

"You can't help anyone if you're too exhausted," Bruce said as Wally finally faced him. "Come back to the Cave."

"I'm going home." Wally replied.

"In your uniform? You should be more careful with your identity," Bruce replied. He gestured to the Batmobile. "Just get in."

"What, am I not allowed to run anywhere anymore? Do you just want to keep an eye on me 'for the League'?" Wally crossed his arms, unwilling to cut Bruce any slack.

"Flash, please."

The plaintive note in Bruce's voice startled Wally out of his anger, if only temporarily. Wally didn't say anything, for once scared of what might come out of his mouth if he did. He watched Bruce's cowl, which gave nothing away, before glancing at the Batmobile. Only a short while ago, Wally had been excited to enter the sleek car. It was almost like entering the Batmobile meant gaining access to the impenetrable fortress that was Bruce's mind. Now, it just felt like another unpleasant reminder of everything he'd had to hear from Bruce earlier today.

"Fine," Wally said finally. "But only so I can pick up every bit of information you have on me, paper or electronic. I want all of it destroyed."

For a moment, Wally thought Bruce would refuse. But the man nodded and slipped into the car.

They drove in complete silence for a long time. Wally glared out the window. It was only once they were in the Cave, after Wally removed his cowl more out of habit than familiarity, that he said anything.

"Why?"

Bruce looked up, staring over the table covered in neat stacks of Wally-related papers. He pulled off his cowl and picked up one of the sheets, frowning at it. Wally was startled to find that the crease in Bruce's brow seemed almost endearing. But he pushed the thought away, reminded himself that he was supposed to be angry.

"It was after the Justice Lords," Bruce answered. "In their world, there was no Flash. There was no Wally West."

"And that justifies all this?" Wally gestured angrily at files. "This is just glorified stalking."

"I know. But it was to protect you, to keep you safe." Bruce strode around the table, moving closer to Wally.

Wally knew he should step away, that he should be furious with this blatant violation of privacy and personal space. But he couldn't. He ached to reach out and touch Bruce. He wished he could just overlook all of this. But he fought the urge.

"No one else in the Justice League has to be 'protected'. I can keep myself safe," Wally protested.

"Obviously not," Bruce countered. "Not in that world. There, you couldn't and you saw what that caused."

"Is that what this is all for? To make sure that the League doesn't turn into some creepy overlords?" Wally demanded.

Bruce chuckled, but it was humorless. "That's what I told myself when I started. It was just supposed to be a security measure."

"But it wasn't?"

Bruce gave Wally a strange look, as if the speedster was missing something that was patently obvious. "Of course not. I did it because I don't want to live in a world that has no Wally West. And if that meant doing all of this" – he waved a hand at the files – "then that was a price I would willingly pay."

"You don't want –" Wally stopped. He was confused, unsure if he knew what was happening or if he just hoped he did.

Bruce shook his head. "Do you always need someone to spell things out for you?" he said, a familiar flicker of annoyance appearing in his voice. And then –

"Wally, I love you."

The pronouncement seemed unbelievably loud against the low hum of the computers. It fell awkwardly between them, both equally surprised that it had been said. Wally barely had time to register his shock when Bruce kissed him.

It lasted just long enough for Wally to begin to respond, pressing their bodies together and running a hand through Bruce's hair.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said as he kissed Wally again.

"For the kiss or the creepiness? Because I only minded one of them," Wally mumbled around Bruce's mouth.

"I shouldn't have," Bruce continued, enveloping the speedster in his arms.

"You're right, which is why you're going to help me destroy all of those damn files," Wally said, pulling back. "And help me clean up my city."

"Maybe that could wait. I have something important to attend to at the moment," Bruce said.

"Why not? We've worked hard," Wally agreed. "We can afford to take a night off."

Their kiss was soft and slow, an easy give-and-take. But the actions soon grew heated, light touches becoming caresses and gasps giving way to moans.

The two managed to make their way up to Wayne Manor in search of a bed, Wally half-terrified that they'd run into Alfred in this state. But that worry didn't stop him from pressing Bruce against a wall, unable to keep his hands off of the man. He ground their hips together and licked a long, sordid stripe up Bruce's neck.

Bruce moaned at the friction, before grabbing Wally's hand and pulling them further along the hallway.

"Bedroom," he explained breathlessly as they fell into one of the empty rooms.

Wally kicked the door shut and paused to watch Bruce strip out of his suit. The cape pooled at his feet, quickly joined by boots and dark, heavy gauntlets. Bruce was a sight to behold, the once-frightening Batman reduced to tousled hair and bedroom eyes.

"You should ditch the Batsuit more often," Wally commented, using his speed to slip quickly out of his own costume. "It's a good look on you."

As he let himself be pulled into bed, Wally wondered briefly how he'd stack up against the ditzy, famous girls Bruce Wayne always paraded around with. But there was something in the way Bruce said his name and dug his fingers into the soft flesh of Wally's hips that made him reconsider. This was not Batman hidden behind a dark cowl, no more than it was a playboy billionaire, one of Gotham's most elite. No, the Bruce that was here and now belonged utterly and completely to Wally.

This thought made Wally arch up against Bruce, moaning at the delicious friction of Bruce's thigh against his aching cock.

"Fuck, we should probably move this along," Wally said, feeling a familiar curl of heat low in his stomach.

"Don't tell me you're the fastest man alive when it comes to sex," Bruce murmured, mouthing his way across Wally's chest, leaving stinging red marks in his wake.

"Very funny, never heard that one before," Wally gasped. He curled one hand into the sheets, the other yanking Bruce back up for a bruising kiss. "Focus less on trying to finally develop a sense of humor and just fuck me already."

Bruce's eyes darkened with lust. "I'd be more than happy to oblige."

The sudden emptiness of the bed made Wally whine, but he wasn't disappointed for long. Bruce returned, rolling a condom on and hand slick with lube, distracting Wally with a hungry, filthy kiss as he slipped a finger into him.

Wally moaned into the kiss, pushing down against the hand between his legs. The sensation of a second finger curling into him, combined with the way Bruce's weight pressed him into the mattress, only added to his growing need for release. He could feel himself stretching to accommodate the fingers, a pleasurable ache working its way through Wally.

"C'mon, another," he growled as he licked his way into Bruce's mouth.

With a third finger, Wally could really feel the stretch, the slow, tantalizing burn within him. The sensation seemed impossible hot, somehow heightening the desire pooling between his legs. He rode the fingers as best he could from beneath Bruce, working his hips in a steady rhythm. His hands scrabbled to find purchase on the smooth expanse of Bruce's back, pulling the man as closer against him.

"I'm ready," Wally managed to moan. "Please."

Bruce just chuckled and slid his fingers out. The three were quickly replaced by the blunt tip of Bruce's cock, pressing up against Wally's entrance. Bruce slid in easily, letting out a low groan as he entered.

"Fuck," he gasped from above Wally, arms braced on either side of the speedster's head. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?"

Wally decided not to answer, instead wrapping his legs around Bruce's waist and starting to move. The two of them soon found a steady pace, Bruce thrusting into Wally with quick, sharp movements. Wally's world dissolved to the slide of sweat-slicked skin, the wet meeting of mouths, and the almost unbearable, hot pressure of Bruce inside him. Wally could hear his name being moaned, a litany interspersed with curse words and gasps.

The combination was too much to stand. Wally was so close, could feel the telltale signs of orgasm building up within him. He just needed to be touched, needed the feel of Bruce's palm against him.

And as if he'd heard the thought, Bruce reached between the two of them, wrapping a hand around the length of Wally's cock. He had to jerk just once, twice, and Wally was gone, spilling come over his fist.

He groaned with his release, eyes closing and head lolling back as Bruce sped up, setting a bruising pace. Bruce felt impossibly thick within him; it was all Wally could do to tighten his legs around Bruce and roll his hips with the thrusts, pushing down and clenching around Bruce's cock until the man gasped. He felt Bruce's hand against his face, thumb sweeping over his lower lip.

"Wally, Wally, open your eyes, let me see you." The halting, half-whisper seemed impossible to ignore.

He blinked up at Bruce, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, and pulled the man down against him for a final, deep kiss, and Bruce was gone. His hips stuttered up into Wally before he collapsed down onto him.

The silence stretched into one long, unbroken moment. All Wally could focus on was regaining his breath, admiring the way his uneven panting matched up with Bruce's. He wondered about what to say, about the problems that had been solved and the hundreds that loomed in the near future. But he was – for yet another time that night – entirely unable to speak. Bruce seemed to have that effect on him. Wally lay silent as Bruce slipped out of him, quietly cleaned the two of them up, and curled back up beside him. Wally felt anchored against the heat of Bruce's body, safe within the walls of Wayne Manor and the impenetrable fortress of Bruce's arms.

Wally knew he should speak, but it felt wrong to break the soothing calm that had settled around them, to disobey Bruce's unspoken command to go to sleep. The discussions and troubles could all wait until morning. Until then, Wally had a certain gloomy superhero to cuddle.


	10. Chapter 10

For any city, having a resident superhero was both a blessing and a curse. Petty crime rates tended to go down; even though politicians liked to claim that was their doing, everyone knew that the fear of some well-deserved vigilante justice kept burglars and pickpockets at bay. But on the other hand, a superhero tended to attract the attention of more serious villains who were outright evil, more interested in wreaking havoc than material gain.

Central City was no exception to that. And yet, as Wally scanned the city, it seemed to have bounced back rather well from its latest attack. The damage that had been done seemed less noticeable now, scars disappearing into the surface of the skin. The confusion and destruction Mirror Master's plan had created was almost entirely gone, letting the citizens put their lives back together.

Of course, a sizeable donation from the unexpectedly generous Bruce Wayne had helped the rebuilding process

That thought made Wally smile as he let himself into his apartment. Bruce had been eager to assist Central City as much as he could without drawing too much suspicion. The idea that Bruce cared that much about the city made Wally almost vibrate with joy.

Wally paused as he shut the door, sensing that something was off. His muscles tensed and his heart beat picked up. But, after a few moments of wariness, he relaxed.

“I know you’re in here,” Wally called, toeing off his shoes. “There’s no point lurking.”

A low chuckle emerged from the darkened living room and the light flicked on. Blinking at the sudden brightness, Wally grinned triumphantly at the man sitting quietly on the couch.

“You’re getting more skilled at this,” Bruce said, making no effort to hide the hungry, appraising look he gave the speedster padding towards him. "Being able to detect minute disturbances in your surroundings is a good ability to have."

Wally rolled his eyes. “Do you have to make everything about work? I thought we already had the life-is-not-a-training-session talk.”

He slid onto the couch, practically sitting in Bruce’s lap, and kissed him thoroughly.

“Sorry,” Bruce murmured into the small space between them. “Old habits are hard to break.”

Wally groaned. “I can _hear_ you getting gloomy on me,” he complained, curling his hand around one of Bruce’s. “If you keep this up, I won’t give you the latest updates on how the city’s doing.”

“I can find out on my own,” Bruce reminded him.

“Sure, but you like to hear me telling you,” Wally replied, pressing a kiss to Bruce’s hairline.

“That empty building, the one that used to be a department store, is finally being taken down,” he continued. “Everyone’s arguing about what it should be replaced by. Oh and, all of the residential areas were repaired. Central City’s inhabitants are back in their houses.

Bruce nodded thoughtfully and began running his hands through Wally’s hair. “And what else?”

“Hmm?” Wally closed his eyes, more focused on the feeling of Bruce’s fingers against his scalp than anything else. He leaned into the touch.

“You seemed rather excited when you walked in. Are you sure there’s nothing else going on you wanted to tell me about?”

Wally opened one eye to glare at Bruce. “You already found out, didn’t you?” he accused.

“Oh no, not at all,” Bruce replied, clearly trying and failing to look innocent.

Wally heaved melodramatic sigh. “How are we going to have any surprises in this relationship?”

“Well, we can always rely on you to never figure things out,” Bruce teased.

Wally pouted in mock-affront and slid off of Bruce’s lap. He ignored the older man’s efforts to placate him. He was doing pretty well too, until Bruce pushed him down onto the couch and pressed a deep, wet kiss against his throat. Wally hummed in pleasure, forgetting that he was supposed to be angry, and pulled Bruce completely on top of him.

“You’re lucky I think you’re cute, Bats,” Wally said, struggling to maintain a frown.

But Wally couldn’t keep the scowl on his face as he arched up into Bruce and thought about the latest addition to the Flash Museum: a commemorative statue of the Batman, made in honor of his assistance in defeating Mirror Master and helping save Central City.

Some of the town's citizens had disliked the addition, claiming that the dark superhero's presence seemed completely out of place. Wally disagreed. To him, the statue was exactly where it belonged.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading all the way through! Any comments or criticism would be much appreciated.


End file.
